Chapter 1 –Hell on Earth-
Matthew was shivering and coughing, his helmet jumping with every cough. He took in a deep breath and looked around, his gun ready for anything. This war was hell on his body physically and mentally. Once again a fit of coughs came from his small body.
"Matti, are you okay?"
He looked up to see Francis standing above him, worry written on his face. He sat down wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders, pulling him closer.
"You are going to catch your death out here Matti. Please let me take you to the medic."
"Not until the new units get here. We have so few men here that even if I was shot I wouldn't be leaving my post."
The young Canadian looked up at Francis. His glasses were cracked, most likely caused from an explosion; dirt covered his soft pale face and blonde hair; and snow was clinging to his already cold body. Francis stayed there with him until someone came to relive him so he could get some rest. Matthew had been on watch for fifteen hours now and his limbs had become numb. Worried that he would fall and hurt himself Francis picked him up and carried him to his own tent. Purple eyes looked up into blue ones. He hadn't noticed before but Francis looked so tired, his beautiful face was covered in dirt and dried blood, as was his blonde hair; he looked thinner then Matthew could remember. It was clear this war had taken a toll on the French male. He laid the young male down and wrapped him up in a blanket. His coughing was better now that he got the boy out of the snow and wind though he knew he was sick, and was only going to get worse.
"Matti my boy you have a fever." He said in a panic.
Purple eyes watched as the male pulled out a bottle of wine, placing it to his lips.
"Take a drink, it will warm you up."
"Merci, Francis."
Matthew took a sip, the liquid burned his throat some then warmed him up. He's eyes slipped closed and he gave himself over to sleep, but not before he had he heard someone talking to Francis outside the tent. Before he passed out from exhaustion the last thing he heard was Francis say,
"What do you mean Arthur and Alfred were shot down!"
Francis was in shock from what the officer had just told him. Alfred and Arthur had gone out to do a few flyovers, looking for any German soldiers in a place they just bombed. No matter what anyone would say he knew that they were alive. If they were hurt they were taking care of one another because they made a pact years ago that if anyone was going to kill them it would be each other. He looked up at the night sky, the clouds covered the stars and moon, a small pray up on his lips, 'Please, please let them be okay.' He looked back into his tent to where Matthew was sound asleep. They were moving first thing in the morning to a new post. He thanked the officer and walked into the tent, sitting down on the other bed. He placed his hand on the pillow, wrinkling the fabric. Even in the middle of a war the Englishman still took the time to make his bed to bounce a coin off it. Francis buried his face in the pillow, tears falling from his blue eyes, his cries muffled by the fluff. His head snapped up from, what most would say sounded like a whistle, but was really incoming fire. He got up from where he was and shook the sleeping boy who quickly got up from the feeling of Francis shaking him and the sound of gunfire as well.
"Matti get up now, we are under fire."
"Shit."
Both men were up and out of the tent, ready to return fire on the enemy. The two of them hid behind a small mount of dirt aiming their rifles at the German soldiers. Matthew was thankful for all the times Alfred took him out hunting and teaching him how to shoot, for he knew if not for his brother's teachings he would be dead by now. Francis was a much better shot then him and had already shot down six men while Matthew had only gotten two. The Canadian spun around at the sound of Francis cussing loudly. Blood was running down the male's arm where a bullet had hit him.
"F-Francis!"
"I'm fine, just keep shooting Matti!"
He nodded his head and spun around ready to aim his gun again, but found one in his face. He looked up to see blue eyes, blue eyes he knew well.
"L-Ludwig. . ."
"Hallo gibt Matthew."
The sound of a gun behind him and Francis cussing once more let him know that right behind his aiming a gun at the French male was Gilbert, Ludwig's older brother. One of the brothers alone was hard enough to deal with, but both at once was downright dangerous and could easily end in bloodshed.
"Both of you up now, and don't even think of trying anything, I know all your moves Francis. We've been fighting each other for a long time now."
"Vas te faire encule!" Francis said spitting at the red eyed male's feet.
Gilbert smiled, a cruel smile that made Matthew's blood run cold. Before he could say or do anything the male had smacked Francis across the face hard with the hilt of his gun. Francis fell to the ground holding his hand to his cheek; blood was coming out of his mouth. Matthew went to help him, but Ludwig took hold of him, his strong hands wrapping themselves around the boy's slender wrist bruising them.
"Francis, Francis. You've always been this way. You open your mouth and say whatever you feel to whoever you want. "
Gilbert grabbed hold of the male's blonde hair, pulling him up. There was a cut that went from his cheek down to his lip. Matthew pulled against Ludwig but couldn't get free. Francis spit in Gilbert's face cussing at him once more.
"Holen sie sich diesen dreck aus den augen!" Gilbert yelled at some other German officers.
Not wanting to face the male's wrath they did as they were told. Francis did not go without a fight, he kicked at some of them; cussing and striking at them. Tears were falling down Matthew's cheeks even after Francis was gone from his sight. Ludwig still had his tight grip on the male's wrist. Gilbert walked over to the young male, slapping him across the face with the back of his hand.
"Gilbert, enough."
The male looked at his brother, his red eyes full of rage. With a grunt he stormed off screaming at some other officers sending them scattering to get away from him. Ludwig loosened his grip on the male's wrist, he could feel and see him shaking with fear.
"Matthew."
Purple eyes looked up at the male, filled with tears that refused to fall anymore. Blood ran down his lip where he was slapped.
"This is what war is, you should know that by now with all that you and Alfred have been through. Though with your gentle nature they should have left you home, you don't belong on the battlefield with any of us. You are not and will never be strong enough."
"Ludwig. . ."
He looked down at the small male. Other than his eyes and different shade of blonde hair the boy looked just like Francis. Matthew slipped his hand away from the German's grip and slapped him across the face as hard as he could. This did little to effect the male. The boy's slap felt more like a bee sting, and was just as annoying. Ludwig let go of the other wrist and took hold of his arm dragging him roughly off to where they were taking the other officers they captured. He tossed him in the back of a truck roughly and walked off to find his brother to try and calm the male down.
"Matthieu!"
Looking up he saw Francis holding a cloth to his arm. He got up quickly and moved over to the older male. Reaching his hand up he placed it on the blood y cheek, gently.
"Francis. . ." his voice was just below a whisper.
The older male wrapped his arm around the boy, pulling him close to his chest and letting him quietly cry into it. He moved his hand up, tangling it in the boy's blonde hair holding his head close to his chest. Looking up he saw a pair of red eyes glaring at him from outside. Francis glared back at him; the look on his face was like that of a protective parent with their child in their arms.
